The Sun.
An unrelenting, blazing entity that sears through the void of space, the Sun is a cosmic leviathan of unimaginable scale and ferocity. It dominates the heavens with a presence that is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. This colossal sphere of plasma, a churning cauldron of searing heat and relentless energy, is the heart of our Sol system and the harbinger of existence itself.
Its very essence is a maelstrom of nuclear fury, where the fundamental forces of the universe clash in a perpetual dance of creation and destruction. The Sun's brilliance is not merely a source of light but an overwhelming torrent of raw, primordial power—a force so immense that it defies the limits of human comprehension. It stretches its fiery tendrils across the darkness of space, casting an intense, blinding glare that eclipses all shadows and renders the night inconceivable.
Throughout history, humanity has gazed upon this fiery behemoth with a mixture of reverence and dread. Ancient civilizations, in their desperate quest to understand the unfathomable, deified the Sun as an omnipotent deity, a god whose will was as immutable and inscrutable as the forces that govern its existence. From the Egyptian god Ra to the Incan deity Inti, the Sun was worshiped not only as a source of light but as an ancient and formidable presence, a force whose divine nature was as inscrutable as it was terrifying.
So one could only say they have entered divinity when they have conquered the Sun.
I have entered divinity.
XXXX- Pride- XXXX
East Blue
Shells Town
The place was louder and busier than I expected, with bounty hunters of all types milling about, talking shop, or inspecting the latest posters on the walls. I walked in with a purpose, though I couldn't help but feel a bit of frustration bubbling up inside me. It had taken me a good half hour to find this place, and that was with a map in hand.
You just can't read one, can you?
Shut up, brain.
The office was cluttered, with the left wall adorned with a wooden board displaying about half a dozen wanted posters. The bounties ranged from 500,000 to 20,000,000 beli, their faces glaring out at the world in defiance or fear. There were far more posters on the opposite wall, but the bounties were smaller—less dangerous criminals, but still worth something.
I made my way to the front desk, where a young woman sat lazily, her attention absorbed in a puzzle on the daily newspapers spread out before her. She seemed too engrossed in the trivial task, completely oblivious to me.
"Ma'am?" I called out, trying to get her attention.
She jolted upright, eyes wide as if I'd caught her doing something she shouldn't. In a flurry of motion, she hurriedly stuffed the papers into a drawer and quickly composed herself, flashing a rehearsed smile.
"Yes, sir, how may I help you?" she asked, her voice now dripping with customer service charm.
"I was hoping to get a copy of those bounties," I said, nodding towards the wall with the smaller posters. The big fish could wait; for now, I needed something manageable, something I could wrap up quickly and use to gather funds.
"Of course," she replied, getting up from her chair. She disappeared into the back, rummaging through drawers, the sound of papers rustling filling the brief silence. After a moment, she returned, handing me three wanted posters, each one bearing the face of a criminal with a bounty on their head.
WANTED
DEAD OR ALIVE
LUCAS 'BLACK EYED' MORGAN BOUNTY: 790,000
CRIMES: ARSONY, ROBBERY AND PLUNDER, DESTRUCTION OF GOVERNMENT PROPERTY
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE LEE 'IRONHOOK' JACKSON BOUNTY: 880,000
CRIMES: SUMGGLING, HUMAN TRAFFICKING, EXTORTION
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
LIAM 'RED' BENNET
BOUNTY: 920,000
CRIMES: MURDER OF GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS, BRIBERY
"Thanks," I said, taking the posters from her and giving a curt nod.
"By the way, where were they last seen?" I asked.
She paused for a moment, rummaging through her mind before the light bulb clicked.
Genius.
"Oh they were spotted making their way to Loguetown, though be careful there's a lot of pirates there."
Without wasting any more time, I turned on my heel, pushed open the doors, and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air. The sun was still high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the town.
"So, you got them?" a familiar voice called out from my side. I turned to see Deuce leaning against the building, idly scratching his chin, his expression unreadable as usual.
"Yeah, I got some smaller bounties," I replied, holding up the posters. "But we can complete these with no problem."
Deuce pushed himself off the wall and walked over to me, glancing at the posters. His eyes scanned the faces quickly, sizing up the targets without a word. He nodded slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Easy pickings," he said, more to himself than to me.
We ran to the docks boarded the Striker and were off in a flash of heat.
XXXX- Pride- XXXX
East Blue
Loguetown
"Captain, watch out!"
The warning came just as the wave of searing heat and the deafening boom hit him. Instinct took over, and Lee threw himself off the wall he'd been leaning against, narrowly avoiding what would have been a fatal blow. In the split second between the warning and the actual impact, the boy's leg slammed into the spot where his head had just been, shattering the wall behind him into a spray of rubble.
"Oh, too much power, I guess," the boy mused casually as if he hadn't just come within inches of decapitating a man.
The sheer audacity of the comment made Lee's blood boil. Before he could even get his bearings, a flash of heat and sound and the boy were in front of him again, moving with a speed that made Lee's skin crawl. How the hell is he this fast?
Lee barely had time to put up his guard, but he was right to do so. The boy's kick connected with his arms, and pain exploded through his body like a lightning strike.
FUCK! GAAH! IT HURTS!
The force of the blow rocketed him down the street like a rag doll, slamming him into the side of a convenience store with enough force to go through it. He gasped for air, blood spilling from his mouth. Shit! My arms... they feel like they're broken. Who the hell is this kid?
Another surge of heat signaled the boy's approach, and before Lee could react, he was there, standing over him with a sheet of paper in hand, squinting at it, and then back at Lee.
"Would you happen to be Lee 'Ironhook' Jackson?" The boy's calm voice was eerily out of place given the devastation he'd just caused.
This little-
"Of course I am!" Lee spat, fury burning in his eyes.
The boy's lips curled into a grin, a smug, self-assured smirk that made Lee's blood boil. "You have no idea how easy you just made this," the boy said, the grin widening.
He's grinning? He's FUCKING GRINNING while fighting me?
Lee's teeth ground together so hard he could feel the enamel chipping away. How dare this punk—no, this child—mock him like this? He had faced down Marines, other pirates, beasts of the sea, and never had anyone dared to show such blatant disrespect.
"If I had my fucking gloves, I'd kill you where you stand, but I'll make do with my hands for now—"
"Get them," the boy interrupted, his tone so nonchalant that it took a moment for Lee to process what he had just heard. The sheer absurdity of the command made him question his own hearing.
It must have shown on his face because the boy then sat down on the ground, crossing his legs like he was settling in for a show. He propped his chin on his palm and looked up at Lee with an expression of amused impatience.
"Get them," the boy repeated, "it'd be more fun if you were at full strength."
"Ace, are you sure?" A blue-haired boy said from beside him. He brushed him off, waving away the worry.
"How about you take care of his crew right now?" He ordered.
The arrogance! If this brat wants to die, I'll gladly oblige! I'll make his death slow and agonizing!
"You," Lee barked at one of his men, who was standing frozen in shock. "Fetch me my gloves, get the steel ones."
The man didn't need to be told twice and scurried off towards the ship.
As Lee waited, the boy sat there, completely at ease, as if he hadn't just challenged a pirate with a bounty worth upwards of a million beli. He wore that same infuriating grin, watching Lee with an air of casual amusement like this was all some grand joke.
"Nice ship you have there," the boy remarked offhandedly. "When I beat you and your crew, do you mind if I take it?"
THIS FUCKING—
Lee's vision went red with rage. How dare he? How dare this little brat talk to him like that? His fists clenched so hard that he could feel his nails digging into his palms, the pain barely registering through the haze of anger. He was going to make this kid regret every word, every smirk, every breath he took in Lee's presence.
As his man returned with the steel gloves, Lee felt a grim satisfaction settle over him. This brat wanted a fight? He'd give him a fight he'd never forget. He'd wipe that grin off the boy's face and leave him begging for mercy.
The boy continued to smile as if he could see right through Lee's thoughts as if he was waiting for the moment the gloves were on, for the real fight to begin. And as Lee slipped on the gloves, feeling the cold, familiar weight of steel against his skin, he vowed to himself that he would be the last thing this arrogant brat ever saw.
"You're ready now? I'm getting bored, old man."
That was it!
With a burst of speed, Lee closed the distance between himself and the devil disguised as a boy. His right hand blurred into motion, a steel-clad fist aimed straight for the boy's jaw. At the last possible moment, the boy's body shifted with an almost inhuman speed, taking a single step back and out of reach.
"Slow," the boy muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.
The word echoed in Lee's mind, taunting him. But there was no time for frustration. Lee took a step back to regain his balance before launching himself forward again. This time, he used the momentum to deliver a spinning heel kick that could shatter bone. The boy merely ducked, evading the strike with ease.
Undeterred, Lee followed up with a lightning-fast left hook, his fist blurring through the air. But the boy scoffed before moving right to avoid it.
Lee dropped low, sweeping his leg out to catch the boy's feet, determined to bring him down. But the boy anticipated the move, effortlessly hopping into the air to avoid the sweep, momentarily leaving himself exposed.
This is it!
Lee's eyes widened with realization. He seized the opportunity, winding up his right arm for an uppercut aimed directly at the boy's unguarded midsection. He put everything he had into the strike, the muscles in his arm coiling with the force of a spring about to be released.
But just as his fist was about to connect, the boy vanished from Lee's field of view, moving with such speed that it seemed as though he had simply disappeared.
A surge of heat and a now familiar boom washed over Lee, the only warning he received before he instinctively spun around, just in time to see a kick hurtling towards his midsection with flames behind it.
Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity. Lee's heart pounded in his chest, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. In that fraction of a second, he realized with horrifying clarity that there was no escape. His mind raced, desperately praying to every deity he could think of, but the prayers went unanswered.
The boy's kick connected with Lee's body like a sledgehammer, driving the breath from his lungs and sending shockwaves of pain through his entire being. His eyes rolled back as the force of the blow lifted him off his feet, ribs snapping under the impact like brittle twigs.
Lee's world exploded into a blinding white light. The pain was so intense, so overwhelming, that for a moment, he felt as though his very soul had been struck. Time resumed its normal pace as his broken body flew through the air, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.
"That was pathetic."
Was all he heard before blackness took hold.
XXXX- Pride- XXXX
He came from the sky. Not unlike a falling star or, like a wrathful force of nature—dropping into the dead center of the ship with the weight of divine retribution. The impact sent a shudder through the deck, the planks groaning under the sudden strain. A flash of searing heat accompanied his arrival, a wave so intense that the crew could feel it before they saw him.
Sweat instantly began to bead on foreheads, soak through shirts, and drip down spines. Though James couldn't see his own back, he knew it was drenched in fear as much as perspiration.
In the stranger's grasp was their captain, a bloody, beaten wreck. His steel gauntlets, hung limply at his sides, battered and useless.
The man landed with a small bend of his knees, his gaze swept over the crew, eyes flicking dismissively as if they were nothing more than vermin.
But then, his gaze locked onto him, pinning him in place like a bug under glass.
His throat tightened painfully, his mouth dry as sand. He wanted to speak, to demand answers, but the words tumbled out of his mouth in a stuttered mess. "W-who are you? What have you done to my captain?"
"Be quiet," he said, his tone colder than the deepest ocean trench.
His body quaked with fear.
I-I'm going to die here.
This man was dangerous. More than that—he was death walking.
"Where is Deuce?" the stranger asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
He hesitated, his mind scrambling for an answer. Before he could respond, another voice broke the tense silence, the voice of a crewmate who leaned on the railing, his courage—or foolishness—pushing him to speak out of turn. "Who the hell are you!?"
A grave mistake.
In a heartbeat, the stranger vanished from where he stood. Another spike of heat, even more intense than before, hit the crew like a wall of flame. The stranger reappeared beside the defiant man, moving with such speed that it seemed like he had never left.
A blur of motion—so fast it was barely perceptible—and the stranger's hand touched the man's face. For a moment, time itself seemed to hold its breath. Then the air ignited with a terrifying heat, and the man's head disintegrated in an instant, a fountain of ash billowing into the wind where flesh and bone had been. The body, now a lifeless husk, toppled backward, the cauterized stump of a neck smoldering as it fell into the ocean with a dull splash.
No one moved. Spoke. Or, breathed.
"Next time I ask, that'll be everyone on board. Where is he?"
One man's crotch darkened with liquid and an awful smell wafted off of him.
"D-Deuce? A-A blue-haired boy?" He asked.
He nodded.
"H-He's dead-"
Wrong.
The man took a deep breath and sighed.
"Annihilation"
Heat eclipsed the world.
XXXX- Pride- XXXX
The screech of fire descended upon the wooden ship with a ferocity that could only be described as apocalyptic. In less than a heartbeat, the vessel was consumed in a cataclysmic explosion, its sturdy timbers catching fire almost instantly. The air around it shimmered with heat as waves upon waves of flames burst forth from his lips, an inferno unleashed as if the very gates of hell had been thrown open. The flames, voracious and unyielding, engulfed everything in their path, devouring the ship and all who were aboard.
Those who had the misfortune of standing closest to the inferno were the first to fall. The fire took them in a heartbeat, their clothing igniting in a blinding flash before their skin could even register the heat. It hissed and crackled as it burned away, layer by agonizing layer until only the stark white of bone and the glistening red of internal organs remained. But even this was not spared—within moments, the relentless flames reduced flesh, bone, and sinew to nothing more than a pile of ashes, scattered to the winds like a forgotten memory.
The fate of those farther from the blaze was no kinder. Their screams pierced the air, a horrifying chorus that echoed across the ocean, as the flames caught hold of them too. Their clothes, too, erupted into fire, clinging to their bodies as if desperate to merge with their flesh. The heat was unbearable, their skin blistering and cracking under the onslaught. Weapons they had once trusted to defend themselves turned traitorous, their metal melting in the intense heat, fusing with burnt skin in a grotesque mockery of armor.
As the ship crumbled beneath the assault, its once-proud frame disintegrated. The planks, now bathed in an unholy light, cracked and splintered before plummeting into the churning ocean below. The sea, an unforgiving witness to the carnage, hissed angrily as the flaming wreckage met its surface. The water, once a refuge, now did little to quench the fury of the fire. Instead, the waves seemed to seethe and boil, the flames refusing to die out even as the ship was swallowed by the depths.
Once all the carnage was finished the flames dissipated, and the fire, the heat, the nightmare from hell followed suit.
And he remained.
He hovered over the ship with a steady flow of flames coming out of his feet, stabilizing him in his flight. He seemed completely at ease, with his hands in his cargo shorts and a black flannel showing his bare muscled chest to the world and black unruly curly hair.